Warm with a Chance of Flowers
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Written for: govt_stole_toad
The April Showers Challenge
Title: Warm with a Chance of Flowers
Author: lionille
Prompts: June & Flowers
Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Word Count: 1400
Summary: Luna consults her almanac, and Neville learns that his forecast calls for warm with a chance of flowers.
"Luna, could you have a look at the weather forecast for me?" Neville asked, from deep beneath Tentacula Number Seven. It was the largest one on the premises, it has taken him a good ten minutes to get safely into position to prune, and he had just realized he'd forgotten to check for tomorrow's weather. If it was going to be rainy, he wouldn't be able to do the trimming. Tentacula's didn't like to be damp after a shear.
"Certainly," Luna replied.
He could hear the rustle of parchment as she turned pages.
"Here we are," she said at last. "Warm with a chance of flowers."
Neville squinted through the lattice of wriggling branches. "You mean showers."
"No, I'm quite certain it says flowers."
"Are you reading the Quibbler almanac again?"
"It's quite accurate," Luna insisted serenely.
"Luna, I need the real.... oh, never mind." Neville climbed carefully out from under the tentacula and made his way to the front of the greenhouse where his desk was situated by the door. After some searching through the stuffed drawers, he found his trusty copy of Master Greenbough's Meteorological Guidebook, and sat down on the edge of the desk to read it. Luna leaned back in the chair and said nothing, making herself busy again with the day's receipts. She seemed to be stacking them according to color.
As he rifled through the worn pages to the current date, Neville struggled to hold onto his temper. He hadn't minded taking Luna on as an assistant, Merlin knew he needed one, and Hermione had begged him as a personal favor to give Luna a chance. But honestly ~ her filing system was incomprehensible to anyone but her, she seemed to feel bookkeeping was an annoyance to be postponed as long as possible, and if she told him one more time that he was not harvesting his perennials according to the Quibbler's garden column maven, he was going to snap.
The little moving diagram in the Guidebook seemed to be predicting rain for tomorrow. "I can't prune the tentacula tonight," he announced, returning the book to the cluttered drawer and pushing it closed. "We may as well call it a day."
"I still have work to do," she replied coolly.
"You can do it tomorrow," Neville insisted.
"But..."
"Really, it's OK. I'm the boss, I can say that."
"Aren't you going to plant the west beds with marigolds?"
"What?" Neville blinked. He'd been on his own so long here he'd gotten used to not having anyone second-guessing his decisions. "I wasn't planning on it this soon."
"But the Almanac..."
"Luna. It's time to close up for the night, all right? I'm locking up, and we're going back to the house for dinner, and then we're taking some much-needed and well-deserved rest."
Luna rose with dignity. "You have been a little peevish lately," she mentioned, gathering up her handbag and the jumper from the back of her chair.
Neville stared at her indignantly, but couldn't think of a reply that wouldn't prove her right. He waited until she was on the gravel path leading back to the house, then took out his wand and set the wards on the greenhouse.
It was a quiet walk home. Neville was trying to figure out what to prepare for dinner.... of course Luna had to be one of those annoying vegetarian people and the only thing Neville could really cook well was mutton stew... and Merlin only knew what Luna was thinking about.
He didn't have to wonder long.
"You know, Neville," Luna said, with a rather eerie calm for someone delivering a dressing down, "If you're going to order me about from sunup to sundown, and treat me like some addled escapee from Mungo's, I really don't think this arrangement is going to work out."
"Order you..." Neville was so taken aback he had to stop and start over again. "I'm not 'ordering you about', it's a job! And I've hardly asked you to do anything! I've been getting up an hour early just to straighten out all the stuff you've bollixed up the night before!"
Luna's lips parted in surprise as she whirled to face him. "So you're the one who's been messing up my system! And here I was blaming it on paper-podgers!"
"THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS PAPER-PODGERS!" Neville bellowed. "And you don't HAVE a system! That's the whole problem!"
"You're like the wizarding equivalent of a muggle! In fact, I bet there are plenty of muggles who have more open minds than you... and a sight more manners!"
She strode off ahead of him towards the house. Neville stood there a moment, wondering how it had all come to this. He hardly ever lost his temper, in fact, little stirred him at all these days. But they'd been friends far too long and been through far too much to argue over such trifles. He caught up with her at the back door, where she stood waiting in the porch light with her arms crossed.
"Luna, I'm sorry." He reached out to touch her shoulder, and found that the texture of her cardigan was strangely familiar. He had one like it, he realized, Hermione had knitted stacks of them during the first weeks after the war, for her recuperating friends. Most of the jumpers had seed stitch detailing, which had become something of her signature. Thinking of Hermione only served to remind Neville how she had entreated him to take Luna in, to look after her. He'd hated giving up his solitude, but he had agreed to help.
"Let's have dinner first, and then we'll plant, OK?"
"You're not making lamb again, are you?" she asked warily.
Neville thought back to the last time. "No," he said with certainty.
~ * ~
And so it was that several hours later Neville found himself planting marigolds by wandlight in a misty drizzle. Luna was wandering about happily in the mud in her bare feet, her pale blue cardigan clinging to her, her pale hair white in the watery moonlight. Trevor supervised the proceedings from his favorite rock, looking rather smug, Neville thought, as if he were wondering why Neville didn't always plant things at night in the rain. Luna was singing softly to herself as she worked, Neville didn't expect to recognize the tune, but he did.
Eventually, they met in the middle with the bed planted. Luna stood up on her toes.
He kissed her. It was quite possibly the most unexpected moment of his life. And quickly becoming one of the best. Lost in the soft warmth of Luna's lips on a June night, he forgot all the things he'd so wanted to forget, and remembered what it was to be alive.
When they drew apart, he stared at her in utter surprise, but Luna looked strangely serene.
"I knew you were going to do that," she informed him, smiling up at him.
Neville didn't doubt it.
~ * ~
The following morning, Neville woke up on the sofa in his sitting room. He sat up stiffly, his clothes were a wrinkled mess, he noted, as he pieced together the events of the night before. He'd come home too tired to change clothes, had spelled himself dry as best he could and fallen asleep in his shoes. He hoped Luna had had the sense to change before going to her own bed.
Luna. Merlin, Hermione was going to go spare. He was supposed to be providing a calm, tranquil environment for Luna, and in the last twenty-four hours he had yelled at her, and kissed her. He wasn't sure which was worse.
Luna appeared in the doorway with a cup of tea. They regarded each other for a moment, and then she bit her lip. "Neville, I'm sorry about last night."
"You are?"
"Well, you know, Hermione sent me here to look after you and keep you company. I may have behaved a little impulsively, kissing you like that."
"Hermione... what?"
"Don't be angry. She was just very concerned for you, you withdrew so much after the war." Luna handed him the teacup. "Shall we go look at the marigold bed?"
"They won't be up yet," he informed her gently. "They won't sprout for at least another couple of...."
"Let's not start this again, shall we?" she interrupted him.
"Fine," he sighed. Cradling the cup in one hand, Neville caught Luna's with the other and led her out to the west bed in the warm light of the morning.
And blinked.
Because the west bed was full of yellow and orange ruffled blooms, all bobbing above a cheerful carpet of green leaves.
"I told you your forecast had a chance of flowers," Luna smiled, her fingers tightening around his.
With Luna beside him, Neville believed she was right.
Written for: govt_stole_toad
The April Showers Challenge
Title: Warm with a Chance of Flowers
Author: lionille
Prompts: June & Flowers
Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Word Count: 1400
Summary: Luna consults her almanac, and Neville learns that his forecast calls for warm with a chance of flowers.
"Luna, could you have a look at the weather forecast for me?" Neville asked, from deep beneath Tentacula Number Seven. It was the largest one on the premises, it has taken him a good ten minutes to get safely into position to prune, and he had just realized he'd forgotten to check for tomorrow's weather. If it was going to be rainy, he wouldn't be able to do the trimming. Tentacula's didn't like to be damp after a shear.
"Certainly," Luna replied.
He could hear the rustle of parchment as she turned pages.
"Here we are," she said at last. "Warm with a chance of flowers."
Neville squinted through the lattice of wriggling branches. "You mean showers."
"No, I'm quite certain it says flowers."
"Are you reading the Quibbler almanac again?"
"It's quite accurate," Luna insisted serenely.
"Luna, I need the real.... oh, never mind." Neville climbed carefully out from under the tentacula and made his way to the front of the greenhouse where his desk was situated by the door. After some searching through the stuffed drawers, he found his trusty copy of Master Greenbough's Meteorological Guidebook, and sat down on the edge of the desk to read it. Luna leaned back in the chair and said nothing, making herself busy again with the day's receipts. She seemed to be stacking them according to color.
As he rifled through the worn pages to the current date, Neville struggled to hold onto his temper. He hadn't minded taking Luna on as an assistant, Merlin knew he needed one, and Hermione had begged him as a personal favor to give Luna a chance. But honestly ~ her filing system was incomprehensible to anyone but her, she seemed to feel bookkeeping was an annoyance to be postponed as long as possible, and if she told him one more time that he was not harvesting his perennials according to the Quibbler's garden column maven, he was going to snap.
The little moving diagram in the Guidebook seemed to be predicting rain for tomorrow. "I can't prune the tentacula tonight," he announced, returning the book to the cluttered drawer and pushing it closed. "We may as well call it a day."
"I still have work to do," she replied coolly.
"You can do it tomorrow," Neville insisted.
"But..."
"Really, it's OK. I'm the boss, I can say that."
"Aren't you going to plant the west beds with marigolds?"
"What?" Neville blinked. He'd been on his own so long here he'd gotten used to not having anyone second-guessing his decisions. "I wasn't planning on it this soon."
"But the Almanac..."
"Luna. It's time to close up for the night, all right? I'm locking up, and we're going back to the house for dinner, and then we're taking some much-needed and well-deserved rest."
Luna rose with dignity. "You have been a little peevish lately," she mentioned, gathering up her handbag and the jumper from the back of her chair.
Neville stared at her indignantly, but couldn't think of a reply that wouldn't prove her right. He waited until she was on the gravel path leading back to the house, then took out his wand and set the wards on the greenhouse.
It was a quiet walk home. Neville was trying to figure out what to prepare for dinner.... of course Luna had to be one of those annoying vegetarian people and the only thing Neville could really cook well was mutton stew... and Merlin only knew what Luna was thinking about.
He didn't have to wonder long.
"You know, Neville," Luna said, with a rather eerie calm for someone delivering a dressing down, "If you're going to order me about from sunup to sundown, and treat me like some addled escapee from Mungo's, I really don't think this arrangement is going to work out."
"Order you..." Neville was so taken aback he had to stop and start over again. "I'm not 'ordering you about', it's a job! And I've hardly asked you to do anything! I've been getting up an hour early just to straighten out all the stuff you've bollixed up the night before!"
Luna's lips parted in surprise as she whirled to face him. "So you're the one who's been messing up my system! And here I was blaming it on paper-podgers!"
"THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS PAPER-PODGERS!" Neville bellowed. "And you don't HAVE a system! That's the whole problem!"
"You're like the wizarding equivalent of a muggle! In fact, I bet there are plenty of muggles who have more open minds than you... and a sight more manners!"
She strode off ahead of him towards the house. Neville stood there a moment, wondering how it had all come to this. He hardly ever lost his temper, in fact, little stirred him at all these days. But they'd been friends far too long and been through far too much to argue over such trifles. He caught up with her at the back door, where she stood waiting in the porch light with her arms crossed.
"Luna, I'm sorry." He reached out to touch her shoulder, and found that the texture of her cardigan was strangely familiar. He had one like it, he realized, Hermione had knitted stacks of them during the first weeks after the war, for her recuperating friends. Most of the jumpers had seed stitch detailing, which had become something of her signature. Thinking of Hermione only served to remind Neville how she had entreated him to take Luna in, to look after her. He'd hated giving up his solitude, but he had agreed to help.
"Let's have dinner first, and then we'll plant, OK?"
"You're not making lamb again, are you?" she asked warily.
Neville thought back to the last time. "No," he said with certainty.
~ * ~
And so it was that several hours later Neville found himself planting marigolds by wandlight in a misty drizzle. Luna was wandering about happily in the mud in her bare feet, her pale blue cardigan clinging to her, her pale hair white in the watery moonlight. Trevor supervised the proceedings from his favorite rock, looking rather smug, Neville thought, as if he were wondering why Neville didn't always plant things at night in the rain. Luna was singing softly to herself as she worked, Neville didn't expect to recognize the tune, but he did.
Eventually, they met in the middle with the bed planted. Luna stood up on her toes.
He kissed her. It was quite possibly the most unexpected moment of his life. And quickly becoming one of the best. Lost in the soft warmth of Luna's lips on a June night, he forgot all the things he'd so wanted to forget, and remembered what it was to be alive.
When they drew apart, he stared at her in utter surprise, but Luna looked strangely serene.
"I knew you were going to do that," she informed him, smiling up at him.
Neville didn't doubt it.
~ * ~
The following morning, Neville woke up on the sofa in his sitting room. He sat up stiffly, his clothes were a wrinkled mess, he noted, as he pieced together the events of the night before. He'd come home too tired to change clothes, had spelled himself dry as best he could and fallen asleep in his shoes. He hoped Luna had had the sense to change before going to her own bed.
Luna. Merlin, Hermione was going to go spare. He was supposed to be providing a calm, tranquil environment for Luna, and in the last twenty-four hours he had yelled at her, and kissed her. He wasn't sure which was worse.
Luna appeared in the doorway with a cup of tea. They regarded each other for a moment, and then she bit her lip. "Neville, I'm sorry about last night."
"You are?"
"Well, you know, Hermione sent me here to look after you and keep you company. I may have behaved a little impulsively, kissing you like that."
"Hermione... what?"
"Don't be angry. She was just very concerned for you, you withdrew so much after the war." Luna handed him the teacup. "Shall we go look at the marigold bed?"
"They won't be up yet," he informed her gently. "They won't sprout for at least another couple of...."
"Let's not start this again, shall we?" she interrupted him.
"Fine," he sighed. Cradling the cup in one hand, Neville caught Luna's with the other and led her out to the west bed in the warm light of the morning.
And blinked.
Because the west bed was full of yellow and orange ruffled blooms, all bobbing above a cheerful carpet of green leaves.
"I told you your forecast had a chance of flowers," Luna smiled, her fingers tightening around his.
With Luna beside him, Neville believed she was right.